


Twin Skeletons

by tablrcloth



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentioned Wilbur Soot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29810628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tablrcloth/pseuds/tablrcloth
Summary: Days before their final battle with Dream, Tubbo and Tommy talk about their feelings and get just a bit of closure.Or, Tommy and Tubbo bury their feelings, and later, a friend.
Relationships: Tommyinnit & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 1
Kudos: 61





	Twin Skeletons

**Author's Note:**

> as always (especially with this one), i'm writing about the smp characters and not the creators. if this goes against anyone's wishes, i will immediately take it down
> 
> i had part of this written from before january 20th but stopped writing because i didnt finish it on time. but it's here now, so i guess thats something! title taken from fall out boy's best album (do not argue with me on this /lh) and the song's title is twin skeletons (hotel in nyc)
> 
> enjoy the read!

“Ya think that’s enough golden apples?” Tubbo asks, and Tommy looks up from where he’s crafting. The two of them are in Tubbo’s cozy winter home in the land he dubbed ‘Snowchester’, preparing for their final fight against Dream. The air’s a bit tense with the mutual knowledge of what’s to come, but they’re trying not to focus on that.

" _Enough_ _?_ C’mon, Tubbo,” Tommy says with a laugh, looking back down. “I don’t even know if the best gear could save us against _him._ ”

“Aw, don’t think like that.”

“Just being realistic.”

“We’ll get your discs back, Tommy,” Tubbo says, smiling, and Tommy looks back down, continuing to craft gold and apples together. “Although, maybe we should be making golden carrots. They’re more effective.”

“You’re telling me this NOW?”

“Okay, okay, golden apples work!” Tubbo laughs, raising his hands placatingly.

Tommy smiles before it falls off his face. He sets down the gold with a sigh, leaning back in his chair, and Tubbo looks up at him questioningly. “Tubbo, do you think- is this worth it?”

“Is what worth it?”

“The discs.”

“Why wouldn’t they be? We spent so long getting them back the first time.”

“Well, yeah, but we- we lost a lot, just because of them. We lost _L’manberg_ because of them. I’m just thinking...” Tommy toys with a stray thread on his shirt. “Maybe I shouldn’t have prioritized them so highly.”

Tubbo chuckles grimly, and Tommy stares at him quizzically. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. You’re allowed to be selfish. Besides, L’manberg was always destined to be lost. What’d Wilbur call it- his unfinished symphony? It was always gonna be unfinished. We didn’t know what we were doing. It’s not your fault we tried something and it didn’t... it just didn’t work.”

“I still feel like-”

“Tommy, _listen,_ ” Tubbo says, and reaches over to press his hand against Tommy’s wrist. He looks down at Tubbo’s hand numbly, glancing back up when Tubbo speaks again. “We’re both- we’re literally kids. We shouldn’t have been tasked with the upkeep of a whole nation of people older than us. It’s not our fault that things happened the way things did. Okay?”

“I don’t know,” Tommy mutters. “Was losing L’manberg worth the discs? Losing... Wilbur... worth the discs?”

“Tommy...” Tubbo whispers, his hand falling away, and Tommy folds his arms, before smacking the workbench and leaning down, putting his head in his hands.

“L’manberg is _gone,”_ Tommy whispers, and Tubbo stands from his chair and walks over to Tommy, crouching next to him.

“Want to talk about it?”

“...Why did Technoblade do it?”

“Blow up the country?” Tubbo shrugs. “Doesn’t like government.”

“Yeah, but- that’s not a good enough reason.”

“He said he was against government the whole time,” Tubbo says quietly. “And I guess it’s our fault for reinstating the president right in front of him. And then he retired and we tried executing him,” he adds with a nervous laugh, scratching his neck where the collar of his shirt rubbed against it.

“No, _no-_ no, it isn’t _justified_ . Just because he was open about his damn ideals doesn’t mean he’s allowed to be pissed with us about it. Just because he- he was _open_ about it doesn’t make what he did okay. We didn’t even do anything to him!”

“Are you talking about the first or second time he blew it all up?” Tubbo asks wryly.

“Oh, come on,” Tommy chuckles, but it’s angry, and he sits up. “That- _ugh.”_

“L’manberg meant a lot to me too,” Tubbo says, his voice incredibly small. “It was- it was proof I was finally a part of something. Maybe even proof that what I did mattered. In some way.”

“Yeah,” Tommy mumbles.

“And to think I _exiled you_ for nothing at all,” Tubbo adds, tone angry. “I’m... I’m so sorry. For that. For everything, really.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It _is!”_

“I never said it wasn’t wrong of you to do it,” Tommy corrects. “But it’s not your fault you had to. Besides, I _did_ kind of put you in that position.”

“It was supposed to be us two against Dream-”

“-It still is.”

“I was given too much responsibility,” Tubbo mutters.

“You were,” Tommy agrees. “Wilbur shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“And I was seen as a villain for trying to govern _my_ nation,” he adds, sitting down and pulling his arms up in a hunched up curl. Tommy sits down next to him, putting his arm around his shoulder. “I was supposed to fix a dying country, and every time I did something someone didn’t agree with, I was- compared to _Schlatt._ And- I literally died to that man, so- getting compared to him, I... they were calling me _selfish._ For wanting peace.”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy mumbles.

“Don’t be. For now, we- we can finally win something. We lost everything, so this should be a nice change of pace.”

Tommy looks down at Tubbo, smiling. “Maybe get back a bit of that lost childhood?”

Tubbo snickers. “Yeah. S’pose you’re right.”

“What would...” Tommy looks down, and Tubbo glances at him inquiringly. “What happens if we die? Do you think we would even get a grave?”

Distantly, Tubbo thinks of Wilbur and how he didn’t get a grave. Even _Schlatt_ had a funeral. But Wilbur... nothing.

“Do you want to give Wilbur a funeral?” Tubbo asks, and Tommy looks up at him.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be nice.”

The pair take each other’s hand and rise from the floor, stepping out the door. Tommy isn’t wearing a coat, but he feels impervious to the cold. There’s no wind today, just bright sunlight shining off the snow and a perpetual chill. He’s too numb to feel anything, anyway.

They walk outside, past a tower with a chair in it toward a spruce tree. There’s no snow underneath, but the dirt is frozen and the grass crusted over with ice. Tubbo fishes a stick off the ground and sticks it in the dirt anyway as a marker.

“How do funerals normally go?” Tubbo asks after a while of shared silence.

“Uh.. I don’t know. Only one I went to was Schlatt’s.”

“Yeah, we remember how that went,” Tubbo laughs, and Tommy does too, even though the mood is somber.

“Do we... say stuff?” Tommy asks. Tubbo nods at him as encouragement. “Um. Okay.” He takes a deep breath.

“Uh, dear Wilbur. I hate you and you sucked, but I miss you.”

“Tommy!”

“Okay, okay! I am... I... Wilbur, you were the only one to take me in, and I thought of you as a brother. Even though you... weren’t. And maybe I should stop feeling this way, because you really hurt me. But you also helped me. And Tubbo. You started L’manberg, which meant a lot, but you also took it away. So I don’t know how to feel. Wish you could just come back and... dunno. Apologize?”

Tommy sighs, and Tubbo looks up at him. “Can I talk now?” he asks, and Tommy looks down, surprised.

“You want to...? Sure.”

Tubbo leans down and pokes the grave marker, then straightens. “Wilbur, you gave me a sense of direction in my life. So thank you for that. But I’m really not sure what to do now. So... uh. Yeah. But I don’t really think you cared for me, which is alright, I guess. Just wish you could have seen me as something more than a tool.” Tubbo frowns down at the grave, and Tommy bumps him with his shoulder.

“Got it all out?”

“I think so.”

“Good,” Tommy says with a smile. “Hopefully we won’t have to look at this again,” he adds, the words _I hope we won’t have to bury each other_ left unsaid.

“Hope so.” Tubbo turns to look at Tommy, and must understand the look on his face, because he says, “I can give you two alone time.”

“Thanks, big man.”

Tubbo nods at him and walks back to the house. Tommy distantly wonders if he’ll go back to crafting golden apples, before he looks back at the grave.

“Wilbur... you’re really dead, huh?” Tommy chuckles. “Really done it to yourself now.” He stands there, looking down at the grave, before he speaks again. “I would have run away with Tubbo. I would have left, back before you died, you know. I really could have. But I didn’t. ‘Cause I cared about you. Evidently, that feeling wasn’t reciprocated,” he adds angrily.

“And I don’t know if it was even worth it. Staying, I mean. All I’ve done since is suffer. I can’t solve anything peacefully. Everything ends in war. And it’s all the same, it all _feels_ the same, and I’m not- I’m not _happy._ I don’t like who I am anymore. I feel like I’m turning into someone... who really messed up. I _have_ really messed up,” he corrects, thinking of Fundy before the festival and the Community House surrounded by water.

“I’ve done a lot of things wrong, like you, but I thought the things I did could be forgiven. _You_ won’t be forgiven, not by me at least . _Prime,_ ¨ Tommy curses weakly, voice breaking. “I turned into everyone who ever hurt me. I forced Fundy to take off all his armor, I almost blew up L’manberg with Techno, I called it my _unfinished symphony,_ for Prime’s sake. And I regret... so much. I did so much wrong, and a lot of stuff is my fault, but at the same time it... isn’t. I deserve some stuff, but I didn’t deserve...”

The memory of explosions in his face, of sleepless nights surrounded by nothing but stars, missing his best friend and waking up in a cold, unforgiving ocean.

“Yeah,” Tommy mutters, scuffing the dirt with the sole of his shoe. “I’m not doing well, but what else can I do?” He laughs humorlessly, before looking back down at the grave marker.

 _You’re nothing but a stick in the ground,_ he thinks numbly, then opens his mouth to speak a final time. “You can’t hurt me anymore, Wilbur. I haven’t forgiven you, but... I do wish the best. For you, I mean. I hope it’s better where you are. I hope you’re happy.”

Tommy looks down at the grave one final time, before turning and walking away.

* * *

The next time someone walks up to that stick in the dirt, it’s to push another branch into the ground, twin sticks to represent twin graves. He ties a green bandana around it, fingers touching the fabric carefully, before his hands fall.

“Why?” Tubbo mumbles, and he sits there, a broken boy surrounded by nothing but ice. “Why did you have to leave me? I didn’t even... I didn’t even get to say goodbye, _dammit_ Tommy, I-” Tubbo’s voice breaks and he falls to his knees, holding himself.

_“What am I without you?”_


End file.
